


Eavesdropper

by alby_mangroves



Series: Merlin Summer Pornathon 2013 [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Community: summerpornathon, Episode Related, Episode: S04e04 Aithusa, M/M, Masturbation, camelotremix compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:38:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alby_mangroves/pseuds/alby_mangroves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin really wishes he'd have thought to say he was looking for woodworm.<br/>Summer Pornathon - Challenge 5: Canon Era</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eavesdropper

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Planejane for looking this over for me. I'd forgotten how difficult it was to write to a word limit! Still fun to write though, and obviously this is what actually occurred that morning, they just had to clean it up for family viewing.

It’s not a conscious thought, but when Merlin accidentally sweeps Arthur’s goblet off his dresser while trying to return the key he borrowed, instinct dictates that he fling himself after it, plucking it from the air before it hits the floor.

He misses completely.

When it lands with a clatter on the other side of the room, Merlin finds himself thrown across Arthur’s bed. Across sleeping Arthur himself.

Merlin has never moved so fast in his life as when he launches backwards off the bed, hitting the stone floor with a jarring thud which sucks the air from his lungs, makes the back of his head clang like saucepans, and his hip want to crawl in to avoid the white pain.

It’s all he can do not to cry out.

On the bed, the coverlets slide with a rustle, and of course Arthur’s waking up—not even he could sleep through a bodyslam like that. Merlin curses himself for ten kinds of fool.

Arthur’s up on his elbows looking away to where the goblet has rolled to a stop, and Merlin dives under the bed before he’s even caught his breath.

**&**

The room’s silent; Merlin thinks perhaps Arthur’s drifted back to sleep.

He wishes he’d had the presence of mind to stop the goblet with magic, or think up any excuse that would mean walking out of here instead of hiding under Arthur’s bed with clumps of dust and a dead beetle. Merlin’s lip curls in disgust.

Just as he’s resolved to try his luck, Arthur’s bed creaks ominously.

Merlin freezes.

He’s not sure what he’s hearing at first.

There’s more rustling, and Arthur sighs, long and content, in a way Merlin’s never heard before. His skin tingles with foreboding.

It takes a good moment to process the next sound. Merlin’s mouth falls open in shock.

Above him, Arthur groans, voice thick and raspy from sleep, and the low edge of it creeps up Merlin’s spine like cold fingers.

And it’s not like he hasn’t imagined—of course he has. Merlin’s only human, and Arthur’s not shy about his body. It’s only too easy to picture him laid out on the bed above, teasing himself, cupping, tugging—Merlin swallows dryly. Oh yes, only too easy.

Silence falls, and Merlin’s entire body tunes in, waiting. The wet lick can only mean one thing, and sure enough, there’s a distinct _fwap, fwap_ from above, the familiar echo of a moistened palm moving over private skin. Merlin squeezes his eyes shut, but Arthur’s waiting there too, gloriously gold and broad and heavy. He’d be a solid slab. He’d pin down, and own, and wedge in between thighs like a conqueror, and he’d _take_.

Merlin shivers, wondering if Arthur's scars look darker when his blood heats.

Arthur’s surprisingly vocal, Merlin never imagined that. He grunts, moans brokenly into his bedding, and Merlin gives in with a sigh, letting cold fingers sneak under the placket of his trousers, movements awkward and constricted in the small space beneath Arthur’s bed. His hip aches, but it’s good. It’s grounding.

He eases his cock’s own slick around the head with his fingertips, silently sucking air. Above, Arthur’s counting each stroke with _ah, ah, ah_ and below, Merlin imagines licking lazy, wet curlicues over Arthur’s chest, tasting hair against the grain.

He opens his mouth and sucks in a fingertip like it’s Arthur’s nipple, curling his tongue around it, then stretches his mouth around three fingers, sliding them over his tongue like he’d suck a cock. Listening to Arthur pant, he imagines the texture of the crease between those big thighs and Arthur’s sac, the dark blond thatch of hair at the base of Arthur’s cock glistening with Merlin’s spit, absolutely filthy with it.

Merlin’s shuddering breaths are too loud but Arthur can’t hear, he’s fucking his fist good and hard, the sounds sticking Merlin’s thoughts together like smears of warm honey and curling around his insides, low, deep and throbbing.

Merlin works himself as harshly as the space will allow, biting down on his fingers, swallowing the name he can’t say, and his dignity with it.

He comes in his trousers like an untried boy, then memorises Arthur’s almost pained, rough moan, wishing he could be inside Arthur’s head, seeing what he sees in that one blinding moment.

He waits, cold and slowly crusting, until he hears Arthur’s light snores, then makes his escape, stomach muscles spasming in dark pleasure each time he remembers.


End file.
